Dead Of Night
by danvseveryone
Summary: Leaving isn't easy and its not courageous either but Fiddleford can't live this way anymore. He can't live with Bill.


-The Dead of Night-

His heart was pounding and he had to keep a hand over his mouth to not let his gasping, panicked breaths wake the man sleeping soundly next to him. Fiddleford's eyes darted towards Stanford and he bit deeply into his lip to keep the heavy sigh of relief from passing when he found out he was asleep.

Slowly, he sat up and slid as gently as he could from underneath the covers, never being more thankful that Ford wasn't the cuddling type. His hands shook as he slid his glasses on and began to tiptoe across the bedroom floor. He collected the clothes he had laid out for the morning from the dresser, trying not to glance back at Ford from the dresser mirror's reflection, knowing in his heart that if he watched him sleep, so innocent, so normal, so like Ford, he wouldn't be able to gather the nerve again to leave.

He firmly reminded himself that it had to be this way, he couldn't live like this anymore. Tears slid down his face as he took one final glance at Ford, his former best friend, his former partner, his former lover, before making himself grasp the doorknob and creep out the door to hopefully never be seen again by the man who was once his entire world. He prayed internally for the courage to never look back and get out before his love for that man forced his hand into dooming all mankind.

As he shut the door as quietly as he could, Ford's eyes snapped open and a smug smile crept onto his face as he slowly rose from the bed, glancing briefly into the dresser mirror that reflected his now yellow, cat-like eyes.

The creak of the study's door made Fiddleford instantly snap up from gathering all his research designs for his personal computers and abandon all thoughts of heading to California and trying his hand at starting his own business to sell his prototypes. He didn't need to turn around to know that Bill had caught him trying to leave and that he wasn't happy about it.

* * *

"Well, well, well..." Fiddleford's hands began shaking at that familiar voice and he dropped all his papers on the floor, but he couldn't bring himself to turn around to face that demon.

"Fiddlesticks! What are you doing up at this ghastly hour? Aren't you the one always saying we don't get enough sleep?"

"I...I was only finishin' some equations...ah dream 'nspired me..." He was shaking so bad his accent practically made his words illegible to his own ears, he couldn't imagine how they sounded to _him_.

"A dream you say?" he said smugly. Fiddleford didn't need to turn around to see that sadistic smile and that horrible gleam in those inhuman eyes...

He went completely rigid as those once familiar and safe six fingers dug into his shoulders and hot breath hit his ear as the demon continued to talk, almost intimately, as if they were lovers. It all made Fiddleford's stomach twist.

"What brought on those dreams? Am I a muse to you like I am to your boyfriend?"

Those words ignited a fuse somewhere deep inside Fiddleford and he shoved himself away from the demon who possessed his partner.

"You're no muse," he spat as he backed towards the door, deciding it was now or never: he would just have to sacrifice his research (something that just killed him on the inside). His hands clutched the doorknob as he stared down the demon in front of him, who still held that vicious smile he assumed serial killers held before they struck their prey.

"All ya are is a nightmare," he growled before flinging the door open and running down the stairs, only thinking about getting the car keys from the kitchen and making a break for it while he still had the chance.

No matter how much adrenaline was pumping through his veins though, he knew Stanford's body was not only stronger than his own but faster as well. It had to be with all the monster hunting he did on a daily basis, and it wasn't till now that he realized how badly those monsters must've hurt the next morning until that body slammed into him at full force just as he reached the bottom of the stairwell.

His nose smashed into the shag carpet and he couldn't get enough breath out to release the moan of pain from those once beautiful and gentle six fingers leaving bruises in his sides as they clung tightly, preventing him from moving.

"A nightmare, Fiddlesticks?" that voice chuckled as he spun Fiddleford around roughly to face him and straddled his body, hands pinning both his wrists to each side, trapping him. "I think you're being a little over-dramatic. What I did before was merely what you humans refer to as 'jokes' compared to what I'm going to do, or should I say _Sixer_ here will do to you if you don't stop this nonsense. Now we can do one of two things: One, you can come back to bed and forget any of this ever happened, or two, we can play rough."

Terror consumed Fiddleford and he began struggling in vain to free himself from the monster on top of him. He knew it was futile, that grasp didn't even have to tighten to keep him pinned to the floor. His panicked breaths increased as he realized all he was was a mouse the family cat had caught and that he was going to make him suffer before he finally finished him off.

"Well Fiddlesticks?" he pressed on, those horrid eyes that haunted his dreams mere inches from his own.

Tears started to well up from his eyes but he wouldn't back down on this. He may not know exactly what that portal was that the demon wanted them to finish so badly, but the more he observed this creature's idea of jokes, the more he knew that it was nothing good. All he was was a demon from the depths of hell he remembered half-listening about from religious men in his youth.

He loved Ford but the man was a fool. He couldn't support his folly any longer and he was going to stand his ground for once in his life, even if it did get him killed. He couldn't take the dark magic any more. He couldn't take how casual this demonic muse was about the horrible things he did to those creatures. He may hold no love in his heart for most of the monsters Ford caught and stored away in his lab but he couldn't stand the way Bill treated them when he took control of his callous at times, but never malicious, friend. The way he twisted and destroyed those poor creatures, some of whom were as intelligent as humans, with the horrible curses Ford had gleefully (and foolishly) put in his second journal. He wouldn't be an accomplice to it any longer.

He could never talk to Ford about the evil things Bill did. He was so wrapped around his muse's finger that Fiddleford was terrified to consider that he would think of a justification for this creature if he happened to kill him with one of his 'jokes'.

He couldn't live like this anymore...

"Ya-you can do as ya wish," he finally whispered with a shaky breath. "I ain't helping you anymore. I know what you are..."

Even if he could grasp the nerve to continue talking, Bill cut that option out for him as he gripped his throat tightly, cutting off his air supply, those eyes only holding murderous thoughts...

"Oh, so Fiddlesticks has finally found some courage in his cowardly being, too bad you found it at the wrong time!" Everything was beginning to blur as Bill squeezed harder, chuckling at his pain as his fingers feebly, uselessly scratched at his skin.

"But lucky for you, Fiddlesticks, I actually need you and your big know-it-all brain alive and unharmed," he sighed, almost disappointed, as he released his hands from his throat and rose from Fiddleford's aching body.

He vowed never to go fishing again as he gasped and sputtered on the floor, now knowing full well how those fish felt. He curled into a fetal position as he wheezed on the floor, trying to prepare himself for whatever Bill had in mind next. But he knew that whatever he had in store, it would break him as that monster did as he pleased to him. Tears fell down onto the carpet as he wished he was so much stronger than what he was...

He clamped his eyes shut as he heard Bill whistling as he reentered the room and kneeled down in front of him. He tried to keep his eyes as low as possible, only focusing on Ford's feet in some useless hope that if he glanced up it would be at his lover's curious face wondering why he was on the floor. Ford's thumb rested at the edge of his chin and the other five fingers caressed his cheek, almost sweetly, and forced him to make eye contact with him. Into those eyes that always stole his breath and made his stomach tighten in fright. He couldn't see his other arm in his peripheral vision and that fact set his mind ablaze of paranoid thoughts of what he could be hiding behind his back.

"You know Fiddlesticks," he began, making everything inside Fiddleford freeze. "I've been thinking, maybe the best way to motivate you is for you to think about what I can so easily do to old Fordsy here."

"N-no-no-n-"Fiddleford began to gasp, but Bill seemed to ignore his protests as he went on.

"I mean, you were so heartlessly about to leave him with someone you found dangerous, but hey, deep down weak humans like you will do anything if you threaten people they actually love. I mean, I can kick you around all I want and as much fun as that would be, I don't think my point would sink in until you're well past useless to me."

He pulled his other arm out from behind his back and casually flashed a knife in Fiddleford's face, making his eyes widen.

"This can be both a favor to Sixer for being such a good host and a punishment to you for being so gosh darn stubborn."

"Wh-wh-" Fiddleford couldn't even finish the word, it just died in his mouth.

"You see, he's always been secretly ashamed of his abnormal amount of fingers, so I'm going to make you watch as we take one off. Heck, you can even keep it as a souvenir if you be good and keep your mouth shut during the procedure."

Fiddleford's mind became hectic as Ford released his chin, allowing his head to thud back onto the floor like dead weight, and put that familiar hand close to his face. His head shot up and shot Bill a horrified expression as he watched him stretch poor unaware Ford's left fingers out, leaving enough room for him to rest the tip of the kitchen knife on top of the extra finger. He slowly pushed himself up enough to meet Bill's wretched eyes and gape at him in mute horror with his mouth ajar. He shook his head as his breathing escalated, staring at that those eyes. Bill's smile grew as he stared back at him, having the audacity to wink at him like this was all some clever joke he was just too stupid to understand. Just as he began to mockingly slide the blade over the finger, leaving a tiny trail of blood from a new scratch forming, Fiddleford shot his hand out, grabbing as tightly as he could onto the man he loved most's left wrist.

"Please! I will do as you say! Just don't...don't...that's needlessly cruel to someone who actually trusts you!" he rambled through the small hiccups and hitched breaths that escaped his mouth as he began to sob.

Bill flashed him a sadistic smile and pried Fiddleford's smaller fingers from his host's wrist and laid the knife on the floor, turning his full attention to the sobbing man in front of him.

"Are you going to come back to bed with me, willingly, and never try to leave this house again without my permission?"

"Yes..." he choked out through his sobs. "Jus-just don't hurt him... "

"Good boy," he said sarcastically, licking a trail of tears off the side of his partner's face, ignoring those terrified shudders as he kissed him on the side of his head. It would have been an almost cute gesture under any other circumstance.

"To bed with you now, Fiddlesticks, you have a long day of work ahead of you tomorrow and I wouldn't want you getting sick from exhaustion," he laughed as he rose from the ground and stuck out his hand for Fiddleford.

He hesitantly took that once familiar hand and was hauled onto shaky legs by the thing he hated the most. Once on his feet his knees began to buckle due to the hysteria still running through his blood. He would have fallen back down on the ground if it wasn't for Bill sweeping him off his feet and into Ford's strong arms.

"You'll learn to accept this, Fiddlesticks, and maybe then _we_ can be friends, just like me and Sixer," he whispered almost kindly into his ear, if it wasn't for those evil eyes and that evil smile still on his face...

Once back in that bedroom he had hoped to never see again, he closed his eyes and pretended it was Ford tucking him into bed and pulling him close to him to keep him safe from monsters like Bill.

* * *

Ford woke up the next morning in a great mood, ready to start back up on work on the portal as soon as possible. He smiled down at his lover who was curled on the other side of the bed, blanket pulled over his head, concealing his face from the sun cracking through the curtains.

"Fidds..."he whispered, resting his hand on the lump under the covers.

He chuckled at the groan that served as his only response.

"I'm going to make some coffee, come down and join me when you get up lazybones and we can talk about some new design plans for the portal that came to me during a dream. Bill really is quite the muse..."

Fiddleford heard the bedroom door close but didn't move. Every inch of him hurt and if he had it his way he would never move again. Tears slid down his cheeks; he had been awake all night unable to sleep with that demon so nearby. He only laid there and listened as he cleaned up any evidence of the incident last night. He began shaking again once more thinking Ford would never believe him...

He prayed for some strength to keep going and that Ford finally opened his eyes...

-End.


End file.
